


Letters to boys I have loved

by JustPlainJane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Romance - Freeform, Love, Love Letters, Multi, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2018-12-15 01:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustPlainJane/pseuds/JustPlainJane





	1. Rob

Dear Robbie,  
  
I don't know if I should include you here. Can six year olds know love? Whatever I felt for you, I was convinced it was love. I planned our wedding.  
As well as a six year old can. I didn't get to caterers or venues but the dress I had pictured was stunning.  
I won't lie to you. I think the fact that our mothers hated each other held some of the appeal. The feeling of rebellion in 'love'.  
But I was slightly relieved when you moved away. When I sat on the top step leading to my house and carefully and painstakingly copied out 'robot's'new address (Shut up - I was six, couldn't spell and didn't know I was destined to become the prodigy of an English GCSE re-sit class).  
The only time you really gave me any attention was when it benefited you. When we were hiding in hedges stealing forbidden kisses.  
You broke up with me once and I was so distraught I pretended I was pregnant for a good hour in a bid to regain your attention.  
  
Part of me wonders if in some way our weird little six year old relationship affected how I see guys now. It's always the ones that pay me no attention.  
Mostly part of me wonders what you're up to now. Hit me up, dude. I still love bikes and playing make believe.  
R xx

 


	2. Ben

Dear Ben,

You were the first real boyfriend. The one who stole uncoordinated kisses over a lunch bench and coaxed me into laying my head in your lap on the bus ride home.  
You told me you loved me after two weeks. I replied with a mumble and flushed cheeks and a skipped heartbeat.  
  
You were the one who coerced me into skipping classes, skipping college, skipping friendships.  
And god, I know, none of that was your fault, I was only too happy to watch my grades slip to just about average curled against your side.  
But part of me does still wonder how after all that, you still managed to skip out on me.  
Why when you decided you needed a change, I had to be the thing that left.  
Part of me still calls 'Can't we please just try long distance?' into the dark silence of the night, while you lay curled around her.  
  
I don't really know why I'm writing this to you. Things could never be fixed between us. The unshakeable trust that was once built inside of me has crumbled.  
The yearly birthday messages still make me wonder what it would be like to still be yours.  
R xx


	3. Train Guy

Dear random guy on the train,  
  
I'm starting to think I fall in love too easily. But you smiled so sweetly and looked so kind. The book you had looked so interesting and you jiggled the foot propped over your thigh as you read.  
In my head you were a young Mycroft Holmes and I imagined we had a future together.   
  
Come back from London Gatwick and give me a reason to keep falling.  
R xx


	4. Isaac

Dear Isaac,

You were always so unbearably cool. You have mastered the 'I don't care so if I care about YOU it'll make you feel so  special you'll spend the rest of your life wondering how you can re-capture that feeling of worth.'  
That loping smile and hand pushed through mussed hair made my heart melt to my knees while my runaway mouth made me look like the desperate idiot I am.   
I am so, so used to playing the fool and looking stupid and being an idiot and yet it hurt so much more when you were there to watch.   
So, I got too drunk, reacted too quick, spoke too soon. And watched as you realised that that over-excited puppy act doesn't fade.   
And watched as you faded from my life.   
And watched as you stopped coming into the shop.  
Stopped responding to messages.   
To Snapchats.   
To texts.   
If your entire being can become a ghost, why can't that easy grin in my memory?   
  
I want to stop loving you. Give me back my heart.   
R xx


	5. Alex

Dear Alex,   
  
It was so painful to love you. Is so painful to love you.   
  
I'm so aware of every way I fall short. And every time you freak out and realise it too, and we break up, a bigger part of the heart I'm not sure I have ownership of anymore gets crushed.  
  
I have barriers up and you can't wait.   
  
Run away for the both of us. And I hope to God that whoever you find when you're done running, I hope your panic doesn't appeal to the darkest parts of their mind like it does mine.   
  
I hope they don't cringe at the thought of slipping up and being difficult or weird or just plain not perfect.   
  
I hope they realise how safe the cradle of your arms feels.   
  
I hope they notice how good you always smell (Seriously, what is that?)   
  
I hope they appreciate your taste in small coffee shops, because it's pretty fucking great.   
  
I hope they love you so hard it feels like falling and they don't hear that panicked voice screaming for them to claw their way back up like I do.   
  
I'm so, so sorry love.   
I promise I tried.   
I tried so hard.   
  
Rxx  
  
(Find me when you're done running.) 


	6. Anna

Dear Anna, 

You are not a boy. I think the distinctly feminine name gives that away. 

But God, if you could only see yourself the way I see you. I promise you, depression only hazes how clearly you can see your own brilliance. The rest of us see it shining like a beacon.

I've never felt so safe as in the outside smoking area of a bar with you, bumming a lighter and re-paying the favour with a cigarette. 

Never felt so accepted, drunk and babbling my secrets in the back seat of your sister's car. Crying and held in your arms as I chant my nan's memory into the beer-tinged air of the pub. 

Never felt my heart clench and fingers curl so tightly into a shirt when we steal kisses in a packed club to blasting 80s music. 

Please, continue scrubbing my heart clean of them. I want this to work more than you know. 

Rxx


	7. Isaac (Pt. 2.)

Dear Issac,

Get out. You are not wanted here, get out. 

That charming manner and clever wit and obvious pleasure at my discomfort will not nestle beneath my skin again. 

It will not. 

I will not be enchanted by how comforting and good your attention feels (when I'm lucky enough to be granted it).

You will not coax me into trusting you again. 

When my texts go unanswered, you will be ignored right back.

I won't fight for this like you're water slipping through parched fingers after a twenty mile march in the desert. I will not.

R x

 


	8. Anna (Pt. 2.)

Dear Anna,

She looks at you like she still loves you. And you look back. I'm not blind. Every time we hang out it's you and her. And me. Just me. Alone. Watching. Breaking.

I feel like I take so much from you, like you're moulding me, like you desperately want me to be someone else. But I can't. A twenty minute argument over an hour reading a book. An hour not paying you undivided attention. And I apologised. I apologised and six hours later you're still pushing it, still trying to re-affirm that I'm the villain. I don't know how much longer I can take this. I'm sorry.

Your actions are not excused by emotion. You are not the only one capable of feeling.

Rxx


End file.
